


i could love you (for the rest of my life)

by fwop



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Omnics (Overwatch), Overwatch Family, Romance, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:56:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28485723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fwop/pseuds/fwop
Summary: “--if you had just listened to me for once, instead of running off--”He’s gesturing wildly with his hands, more expression on his face than Jesse ever thought he’d see, more expression than Hanzo would ever like to show (if he had his way). He probably hasn’t even realized what he looks like right now. Instead, he’s doing his level best to cuss Jesse from one end to the other. He’s spittin’ mad.Oh.
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada
Comments: 22
Kudos: 282





	i could love you (for the rest of my life)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm one of those people that believes that whatever you do on the first of the year, you end up repeating for the rest of the year. So, I really wanted to write something real quick and post it, just so I could make sure I'm doing that all year!! 
> 
> Happy New Year to everyone!! I really hope it treats you well!

The mission shouldn’t be going like this, is the thing. 

They’d gotten the intel, made a plan, another plan, and a Plan C for good measure. Winston had promised something “easy”. Something to make up for the string of near-misses, backs-to-the-wall type’a missions that have left the entire team covered in bruises and swaying with exhaustion by the time they get back to the Watchpoint. 

Jesse should’ve counted on it going to Hell. After all, he’s been promised a lot of things by commanding officers and the majority of those promises have never been fulfilled. Quite the opposite, really. 

He’s faced a lot of omnics in his time, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the monstrosity in front of him. 

It’s not that it’s particularly large, but it is hulking in a way that suggests Jesse should maybe cut his losses, if at all possible. 

Which… the likelihood of it bein’ possible is decreasing rapidly. He don’t like these odds. 

He’s already used Dead-Eye on a pack of swarming agents that had boxed them into a corner, and he’s favoring his right leg from a sharp baton hit to the knee. There was just a little bit too much crackle and pop for it to be healthy.

Lena took a hit to the accelerator that forced her back to the ship for emergency evaluation from Winston. Two agents down, five agents to go, himself included. 

Lucio is out there somewhere, his music faint enough that McCree can discount him from the equation as it moves further away. So, that’s no help from him or Angela, wherever she's made off to. Most likely answering Reinhardt's distress call. 

That leaves Hanzo, though McCree can never keep tabs on him. Shimada thing, he supposes, since he can never keep his eyes on Genji either. Both of them are quicker‘n a pissed off Black Mamba, and almost just as vicious. Sometimes it’s all McCree can do to hold his breath when one of ‘em goes off. 

Welp. He's gotten through worse than this with less luck. Damn, but he'd kill for a nice swallow of whiskey right about now. 

"Alright then," he says, as the omnic zeroes in on him. Adrenaline floods his system, nostrils flaring as his breathing accelerates. "Let's dance, partner."

He dodges the first few shots from some fancy laser gun attached to the omnic’s arm by rolling consecutively. He can feel the heat of each blast as they barely miss his limbs. He’s thankful to Ana for training the mess out of him back in his Blackwatch days. If you can dodge a shot from Ana Amari, you can dodge almost anything. 

However, these aren’t his Blackwatch days and he only has so much stamina left. His gunshots are pinging miserably off the reinforced hull of the omnic and he’s running out of bullets as quickly as he’s running out of breath. Maybe he _should_ join Fareeha on her morning run but at what cost? 

A blast knicks him across the arm, slicing his good shirt open and leaving a sliver of a burn across his good arm. 

“Aw, damn it--” McCree yelps. He just _bought_ this shirt! 

“Uh,” he breathes into his comm as he slips behind a heavy metal crate for cover, “anyone available? Havin’ a little trouble here.” 

“--Where?” Hanzo barks in his ear and McCree cringes, sure he’s gonna get reamed out as soon as the danger passes. Hanzo _told_ him before they’d left the ship not to wander off, but what did he do?

He never thought, when he met him (lip curling up, judgmental eyes roving over McCree’s whole _being_ ), that Hanzo would be the worrying type. But he’s proved, again and again, that he cares just a little too much to cover it up. McCree doesn’t know how many times he’s run into a stressed out tantrum masquerading itself as a lecture, _or_ how many times he’s been on the brunt end of it himself.   
  
Genji thinks it’s hilarious… until it’s turned on him, that is. Hanzo doesn’t do it much to his younger brother-- most likely some form of guilt or memory-- but when he does, it’s for good reason. 

Jesse himself, well-- he knows it pisses Hanzo off, but sometimes he gets a little lost watching Hanzo go off. What can he say? He likes a pretty man, and Hanzo angry? _Very_ pretty. 

“North side-- empty landing pad-- Well, it _was_ empty before the omnic showed up. I’m afraid my bullets aren’t putting up much of a fight against this one.” 

“I am on my way,” comes Hanzo’s clipped response and McCree won’t admit it for the sake of his pride, but his shoulders lose just a little of their tenseness, and the tight band of fear that has been squeezing his lungs since the omnic showed his ugly mug loosens just a bit. If there’s anyone he can count on, it’s Hanzo. 

First, he has to survive. 

The box behind him is picked up and thrown like it weighs nothing and he isn’t lucky enough to avoid the hulking metal arm that swipes at him, throwing him into the nearest wall like a rag doll. 

He loses the breath in his lungs on impact, choking on nothing but pain as he tries to right himself. That’ll bruise like a son’bitch but all it did was knock the wind out of him. A laser singes the building right beside his head and he rolls, dodging behind another crate. 

“Fuck,” he says, his ribs feeling awful tender. If he doesn’t get a dose of healing from someone after this, he’s gonna be pissed. Isn’t the worst he’s ever had, but it still hurts good. 

The omnic crushes the box he’s situated behind and he rolls his eyes as he’s forced to get back up. He needs a vacation, a massage, _something._

There aren’t many open, vulnerable spots to get a bullet through on this thing. Though McCree’s aim is good, this omnic is fast. He aims, and an arm comes up to stop the bullet in its tracks. 

“Well, shit--” McCree turns to run, but a string of laser bullets in his path stop him up and he can’t prevent himself from tumbling over, slamming his head against the ground. Blinking the spots from his vision, his heart damn near stops at the shadow suddenly looming over him. 

He’s been trying to keep the omnic as far from him as possible for a reason. It’s a close-range omnic and he’s just been forced right into his territory. 

A metal arm raises, and so does the hair on the back of McCree’s neck-- 

Electricity. He can damn near _taste_ the ozone on his tongue. 

Oh, boy. 

“ _Ryuu ga waga teki wo kurau!”_

He pins himself to the ground, eyes wide at the sudden array of colors flashing across his vision. Everything goes muffled and distant as two ancient dragon spirits fly straight above him, absolutely decimating the omnic with a ferocity McCree hasn’t seen before. It feels like he’s simultaneously underwater _and_ in a microwave all at the same time. His heart is beating so damn fast, he might as well be in a Bluegrass band. 

It takes him a moment to get his bearings, and by the time he’s stood himself up, Hanzo is dropping down the wall like gravity means nothing to him. 

God, he’s happy to see him. He’s grateful as Hell. 

He opens his mouth to say something, but Hanzo is already yellin’. So... Jesse shuts himself up. 

Hanzo’s pupils are lit up from within, the slightest tinge of electric blue shimmering there as he starts in on his tirade. The light casts a shadow underneath his sharp cheekbones, his full lips peeling back to reveal the sharp of his teeth. He looks gorgeous-- Jesse has always thought so, from the moment Hanzo stepped on base, nose turned up, chin held high. 

God, but everything about him is beautiful. How could he forget? Even his goddamn nasty attitude _does_ things to Jesse-- lights a fire under his skin, makes his blood sing in his veins. He wants to take him down a peg. He wants to give Hanzo anything his little heart desires.

“--if you had just _listened_ to me for _once_ , instead of running off--” 

He’s gesturing wildly with his hands, more expression on his face than Jesse ever thought he’d see, more expression than Hanzo would ever like to show (if he had his way). He probably hasn’t even realized what he looks like right now. Instead, he’s doing his level best to cuss Jesse from one end to the other. He’s spittin’ mad. 

Oh.

_Oh._

Jesse is completely enamored. He’s head over fucking heels. 

“-- _foolish!_ If you had died, how do you think everyone would have--”

Somehow he’s orbited closer to Hanzo as he rants, like a moth to flame, utterly transfixed. Hanzo’s eyes aren’t even on him. Gaze still honed in, he’s glaring at the sparking body of the overly large omnic. Like he’s still mad at it for trying to kill Jesse, even though it’s more broken parts than put together at this point. 

Not for lack of trying, but Jesse just can’t be assed enough to give a shit about the omnic on the ground, or his very recent near death experience. His eyes are locked onto Hanzo’s expression as he switches from English to angry Japanese, pretty lips forming words in his mother language. 

Jesse doesn’t understand a lick of it. At this point, he’s probably just venting his frustrations rather than giving Jesse a lecture, but two birds with one stone and all that. 

It’s so funny to realize _right now_ (and he’s already been aware of this for several minutes) but Jesse _loves_ him. 

That’s all there is to it, that’s all there is to know. He’s been on the backburner about this for damn _months_ , puttin’ it off, ignoring it because it’s easier that way, but he’s done fightin’ it. He’s been fighting off catching feelings for so long because the last time he felt _anything_ more than grudging acceptance, it all blew up in his face. Literally. 

He’s been running from people, from everyone, for years. It took much longer than he’d like to admit to making the decision to answer the summons from Winston, longer still to open back up to a team he used to call _family_.   
  
( _Hell_ , he’d missed them fiercely. Didn’t even realize how damn much he’d missed them until he came back and understood how damn _cold_ he’s been during his wanderings.)

Hanzo spits something else and Jesse knows he must look ridiculous, leaning closer to someone trying to stab him with words, his eyes overly fond as his lips curl slightly at the corners. 

It’s like a magnet at the goddamn mouth. Jesse couldn’t stop himself if he tried-- he’s so pulled in. Hanzo is _still_ , incredibly, ranting-- as if his worry over Jesse had been _so_ consuming that he hasn’t been able to stop his mind from spinning hypotheticals. 

As Jesse’s face hovers near his, he even _closes his eyes_ , completely unaware he’s doing so as he reiterates Jesse’s stupidity. So… okay, then. 

Jesse’s lips catch at his still moving mouth, which seems to come to an abrupt stop at the contact, hanging open in disbelief, maybe confusion. Jesse isn't sure. His eyes are still closed, so Jesse can't tell what he's thinking, though there’s a furrow in between his brows. 

He’s caught Hanzo’s upper lip between the seam of his own in a closed-mouth kiss, just because he _can’t_ \-- he just needs to be touching him, just needs-- 

It’s a dry press of his lips, nose digging into Hanzo’s cheek. He can feel the breath from Hanzo’s parted mouth on his lower lip, on his chin. Despite how chaste it is, it hits Jesse like a sucker punch to the gut. He never really understood the whole concept of butterflies in the stomach until now. 

He pulls his mouth away but doesn’t put any distance between them. Instead, he gives into the desire to nuzzle the tip of his nose along Hanzo’s, rocks where he is as his hand comes up to touch Hanzo’s cheek, to sift his fingers back through inky strands of hair. Running a thumb along his cheekbone, he traces the shape of Hanzo’s face, his jaw, presses it against his pulse point in his throat just to see if it’s jumpin’ just as fast as his own. 

It is, he thinks in delight. It’s a rabbit’s pace inspired by a hound. 

Hanzo is looking at him, he can feel that intense stare centered right on him, but he’s too busy thinking about capturing his mouth again, catching those sweet lips. Who is he to deny himself? 

He angles his head this time, catching Hanzo’s lips again with his own. It forces Hanzo to tip his head slightly backwards, to part his mouth so Jesse can take advantage. With a shock of arousal that makes his toes curl in his boots, he runs a tongue just at the seam of Hanzo's mouth before slipping inside. 

Ooh, the fire that curls into his gut as Hanzo _lets him_. He lets Jesse cradle his mismatched hands about his strong jaw, lets him have the taste Jesse’s been jonesin’ for. It’s humid air between them, saliva slick, tracing the edge of his teeth. It’s heartsick anticipation, stomach swoopin’ madness, tinged with iron from a fight just passed. 

It’s as addictive as he thought it'd be. 

Here is an incredibly strong, proud, endlessly difficult man that Jesse has come to admire (through training sessions where they beat the crap out of each other and morning coffee where Hanzo is still glaring at anything that breathes in his direction and drinking well into the night on the best alcohol they could scrounge up near the Watchpoint), and he’s opening up for _Jesse_ so sweetly. There is surrender in the way he sighs, in the way his hands tremble where they touch Jesse. It’s enough to make a man’s knees weak. 

He doesn’t want to, but Jesse somehow pulls his mouth away, leaning his forehead against Hanzo’s as he opens his eyes to the aftermath. 

Hanzo’s pupils are blown out and _completely_ blue, his mouth parted, shining wet with saliva. Jesse has to resist the urgent beckoning to take his lips again, stroking his thumbs along Hanzo’s cheeks to distract himself from it. 

“What was…” Hanzo trails off distractedly, eyes watching Jesse’s mouth like he’s having the same compulsions, driving off the same urges. His eyes flutter, and he looks up, meets Jesse’s gaze head on. “What was that?” 

McCree just watches him for a moment, lets himself look his fill now that he has Hanzo so damnably close. It’s so easy to see every well-earned line in his skin, the curl in his dark lashes, the subtle arch of his nose. He can see the sparking of the omnic reflected in the whites of Hanzo’s eyes-- God, but he’s _so_ beautiful. 

Jesse _loves_ him. He’s admitted it. 

“Darlin’, that there was somethin’ I’ve been wantin’ for a _long_ while,” he answers with a quick furrow of his brow, like the pain of waiting is hard to think about. Then he smiles in spite of himself. He still has his thumbs pressing into the soft parts of Hanzo’s cheeks, tender as anything. Hanzo hasn’t pulled away-- in fact, their bodies are pressed together chest to knee. 

Hanzo is still watching him, looking so damn dazed Jesse doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’s never seen that look on Hanzo’s face before but it’s mighty nice. It might just make a man hopeful. 

“A while?” Hanzo finally asks. Jesse can feel his archer’s hands ghosting up his ribs, curling into the fabric there. 

“A _long_ while,” Jesse corrects, leaning in slow, so close, just hovering, just breathing the same air. He smiles again-- he can’t help it-- meets Hanzo’s eyes again, watches them slip closed as he tilts his head up. If he couldn’t deny himself, he’s certainly not denying Hanzo. 

Jesse meets him halfway, kissing him deeper. 

It's a damn free fall. 

When he'd been in Blackwatch, he'd had to infiltrate areas he most definitely weren't supposed to be in. 

The only way in had been through cloud cover, jumping from way above and parachuting in. Jesse will never forget the first time-- his stomach trying to find itself in his knees, all the air knocked out of his body while he tried to hold on. 

Adrenaline had shot straight through him, his limbs shaking as he looked beneath him in wonder. 

Kissing Hanzo is a lot like that. 

Clever hands pull at Jesse like it’ll get him closer. Hanzo cranes his neck, pulls at Jesse’s ruined shirt, an absolute beggar for it. Of _course_ Jesse answers his silent demand. He makes a wounded noise in his throat, does it again when Hanzo licks into his open mouth, when he uses his teeth like a wild thing. 

_Let_ Hanzo devour him. He wants it. Reciprocation is guaranteed. 

A sudden, sharp shock of fireworks and the complete shut down of the omnic beside them has them both pulling back, though their hands don’t leave each other. 

Hanzo presses his own lips together before he lets out a brief, breathy laugh from his nose. Jesse answers with his own before he shakes his head. 

“You gotta let me take you out,” he says and Hanzo’s laugh, this time, is more of a bark. 

“I ‘gotta’?”

“Them’s the rules, I’m afraid.” 

“I’ve never been much for following rules,” Hanzo teases, hands shifting from Jesse’s ribs around to his shoulder blades, neck craning back to keep looking up at him. 

“I think you’ll like followin’ this one,” Jesse says, face falling serious. 

“You want to take me out, like a proper gentleman?” Hanzo laughs. “Am I worth that much effort?” 

Jesse’s nostrils flare, and he sweeps a hand through Hanzo’s silky hair. 

“Worth more effort’n I could give you my whole damn life.” He exhales, feeling like a helium balloon going too far up. 

“It is not so much to impress me,” Hanzo says, _smiling_ at Jesse, “not if it’s you.” 

"Keep sayin shit like that, I might have to kiss ya again."

"Hn. A travesty."

"If I weren't so sweet on you, I might skip the date altogether."

Hanzo closes his eyes momentarily, like the imagery is too much for him. His breath stutters as he exhales. 

"And miss my chance to buy dessert on your pay?” 

Jesse chokes out a laugh, looking at Hanzo in awe. He shakes his head. 

“Oh boy, I am in trouble,” he says. Hanzo’s cheeks goddamn _dimple_ in response. 

“You _are_ trouble,” Hanzo says, his own hand coming up to push Jesse’s messy hair behind his ear. “I never thought--” 

He cuts himself off, so Jesse shakes his head again, kissing him with all the longing he’s been hiding these long months. 

“Of course,” Jesse says against his lips, smiling there too. Their teeth clack when Hanzo smiles in return and ain’t that something? Goddamn it, ain’t that _something?_

“You sound so sure,” Hanzo breathes between the briefest press of kisses. 

“It’s ‘cause I am,” Jesse assures him, teasingly. 

Hanzo shudders again before he drops his forehead to Jesse’s shoulder. It feels just right to wrap his arms all the way around him, to pull him close, so he can hug him properly. Hanzo _clings_ to him. 

“Let us go on this date,” he murmurs into Jesse’s shirt, humid air dampening the fabric. 

“Mighty fine--”

“-- _After_ you go to the medbay and rest _properly_. I am still angry with you.” 

Jesse hums. 

“Sure you don’t just wanna kiss again?” 

A huff of laughter and Hanzo raises his head again. His cheeks are pink. 

“If you get the all-clear from Dr. Ziegler, you might just make it to my room before bedtime.” 

“Well, goddamn. Why didn’t you say so sooner?” 

“Mn. Too busy being interrupted, I suppose.” 

“God, you’re so mean,” Jesse replies, not so unkindly. 

“Somehow, I do not think that is much of a problem for you,” Hanzo teases, before he pulls away from Jesse completely. He feels the loss of the proximity like a physical ache. 

“The opposite, really,” he admits with a wink. Hanzo scoffs at him with humor. 

“Come, cowboy,” Hanzo says, jerking his head towards where the team will undoubtedly be waiting. He bends to retrieve a few intact arrows from the downed omnic before circling back to Jesse. Warmth fills him when Hanzo throws Jesse’s arm around his shoulders. “Don’t think I didn’t see you limping earlier.” 

“O’ course,” Jesse agrees, and with his arm around Hanzo and a date secured for the future, he might just have to thank Winston for this “easy” mission after all. 


End file.
